


take me back to the light

by stormss



Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feelings Realization, Found Family, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:26:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22996906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormss/pseuds/stormss
Summary: "If you can hear me, I want you to squeeze my hand, okay?"*Or, TK wakes up.
Relationships: Carlos Reyes (9-1-1 Lone Star)/TK Strand, Carlos Reyes/TK Strand, Owen Strand & TK Strand
Comments: 49
Kudos: 557
Collections: 9-1-1 Lone Star ▶ Carlos Reyes / Tyler Kennedy "TK" Strand





	take me back to the light

**Author's Note:**

> hello!! i couldn't rest until i wrote this after 1x08 aired and here we are!! the title comes from _golden_ by harry styles. 
> 
> come say hi or send prompts over on my tumblr, [ @reyesstrand!! ](http://reyesstrand.tumblr.com/)

Carlos hates hospitals. 

The air is always thick with tension; doctors rushing back and forth between patients, the undoubtable heaviness of sickness lingering on every surface, cries of pain and worry from loved ones hovering around every corner. There's the painful memories, too; his grandfather's heart attack when he was eleven and breaking his arm in college. But storming through the sliding doors when he's finally able to get away from the crime scene is the easiest thing he's ever done; he's drawn immediately to the nurse's station, probably drawing attention to himself as the frantic guy still in his uniform seeking out answers. He's got TK's name on his lips, uncomfortable under the nurse's pitiful gaze, when he feels a hand on his shoulder. 

He turns around and sees Paul's face, his welcoming eyes lined with worry. His voice is still somehow sturdy as he says: "Hey, man." 

"Is he—" Carlos can't even spit it out, his voice cracking. Paul's expression shifts, eyes somehow going sadder, and Carlos feels his heart in his throat. Paul's the only person that gets it, he realizes, remembering the night at the club and the few times they'd all hung out since then, he and TK able to just exist as they do with nobody watching with Paul's quiet but steady support. And it makes him feel like he's allowed to let his mask slip a little bit. 

"The doctors say he's stable," Paul says, lifting his hand to run it down his face. "He'll be off-duty for a while, the kid got him right in the lung. They were able to close everything up and things are looking promising. But he's—he's still out of it, Carlos. He hasn't woken up yet." 

Carlos imagines a world where TK doesn't wake up. They're— _fuck_ , he doesn't know what they are. They're moving slow. They're going on dates whenever they're both off-shift, and they're getting to know each other, and just last week he proudly showed off his four-month chip from AA before deciding to show Carlos the little cafe he's found in his short time in Austin. TK's setting the pace, but Carlos already knows deep down that he's all in for the other man. And he might not wake up, and Carlos doesn't know how to deal with that. 

"Carlos? You okay?" Paul asks, stepping closer to squeeze at his arm. Carlos hadn't even realized that they'd been walking the short distance from triage to the small waiting area practically the entire crew from the 126 is filling up, and now he's staring down TK's coworkers, all of them pacing or fiddling with coffee cups or chatting quietly to each other near the vending machines. Marjan meets his eyes from across the room, her arms crossed across her chest as she hovers near the private room TK's in. Paul squeezes his arm again, and Carlos shakes his head at himself. 

"Sorry, uh. Yeah, I'm okay," Carlos says, swallowing roughly. He knows that they all know he's lying. 

Marjan walks up to them, and he's never pegged her as a hugger, but she immediately curls her arms around him. The few times that Carlos has come to the station to pick up TK, or pass on paperwork to Owen from his sergeant, he's easily fallen into the teasing atmosphere they've developed there. They really are like a big family, and Carlos likes watching them from afar as much as he likes joining in. And he finds himself sinking into the comfort Marjan briefly provides, before she sniffs a little and pulls away. 

"Cap's in there with him now, but you should see him," Marjan says, jerking her head toward the open doorway that Carlos has been trying not to look at. Carlos remembers the chaos of the scene when they'd heard the gun going off; he hadn't found out that the man down they'd heard of through their radios was TK until he and his fellow officers ran into the home once backup was requested and he saw him on the floor, with Marjan on her knees next to him as she pressed her gloved hands to his wound. Her brows had been drawn together in concentration while Owen had his hands on TK's face. Then Carlos had been pulled back into focus by his partner, who had her gun raised until Judd's voice could be heard from the other room, yelling that it was all clear. That had been hours ago now, and Carlos barely manages to nod his thanks to the woman before he staggers toward the door. 

He feels eyes on him as he moves, but he doesn't care. He hovers in the doorway, watching as Captain Strand sits close to the bed, blocking TK's face. He picks up on bits of conversation — _"come back to me, son",_ whispered like a mantra — and Carlos clears his throat. Owen turns and looks drained, and Carlos stills because he has no idea what to do. 

"Officer Reyes," Owen says, and Carlos has a brief moment of wondering what TK's told his dad about them. "Would you like some time alone with him?" 

This feels like it's bordering on boyfriend territory. And Carlos barely knows this man outside of the calls they work together, yet somehow he seems to sense just how nervous he is. Carlos' eyes lock on TK, now that he can see him, and his jaw clenches. He feels his throat tighten, as he takes in the man's pale skin and the tubes and the steady beeping of a monitor next to him.

"I don't want to impose," Carlos says, hearing the way his voice catches in his throat. It takes all of his willpower not to rush to TK's side, to grab onto him and never let him go. It says a lot about the man though, that he'd be willing to give them some time while his son's hooked up to machines that are keeping him alive. He feels his feet moving without meaning for them to. 

Owen turns more in his chair, sparing one last glance at TK before slowly standing. "No, uh, I think he'd appreciate it. I know I would."

No more words are spoken, but as Owen claps Carlos on the shoulder and meets his eyes, there's more there that could ever be said. There's a sudden spark of trust between them, more than just as first responders. Carlos nods slightly, and slowly makes his way over to the chair Owen was using, dragging it closer to the bed. He swallows as he slowly drags his eyes over TK's limp form, the bandages wrapped tight around his chest visible through the thin hospital gown, the non-opioid based pain meds pumping through him from the IV stuck to the back of his hand. Carlos takes the other hand that's free of tubes and wires in his own, running his thumb over the man's knuckles. He glances upward and reaches up with his other hand, gently smoothing back TK's hair, dragging his hand down to rest his palm against the man's cheek for a brief moment. 

He remembers Owen talking to his son, and he feels his eyes beginning to burn as he just lets it all out. 

"Hey, Ty," Carlos starts, his voice sounding shot. He clears his throat again and keeps running his thumb over TK's hands in a steady rhythm, keeping himself calm. "You scared the shit out of me, asshole." 

He stops, and lets out a shaky breath. "I'm here. We're all here, and we'll be here when you wake up." 

The monitors beep incessantly, the only noise in the room besides Carlos' hushed voice. 

"Please wake up," Carlos whispers, watching TK's face for any movement. "You have to, okay? You're the strongest person I know, cariño, you can't leave us yet." 

He goes quiet again, the stinging of his eyes too strong to ignore. He sniffs and turns his face against his sleeve, wiping away the tears, and he tightens his grip on TK's hand because if he doesn't he feels like he's going to break. There's footsteps behind him, then, and again Paul drops his hand to Carlos' shoulder. The whole team starts filtering in, and Carlos makes brief eye-contact with Judd before the man drags another chair from the other side of the room to the opposite side of TK's bed. 

"Oh, kid," Judd whispers as his eyes begin to fill with tears, and Carlos darts his gaze away, instead focusing on his and TK's tangled fingers. Paul remains a sturdy presence behind him, and Grace keeps her hands on her husband's shoulders, squeezing them every few moments. Marjan and Mateo linger near the foot of TK's bed, staring down at him, and none of them have the will to speak. Carlos keeps running his thumb over TK's knuckles, even as Owen comes in and tells them all to go home and try and get some rest. He says something about keeping them posted, but when Owen meets his eyes Carlos knows that he won't be kicking him out tonight, and for that he's grateful. 

* * *

For the next two days, it's the same thing. 

Carlos takes a personal leave from work; he's never had a need to use up his vacation days, always telling himself that one day he'd plan a trip or maybe go home for the weekend even as he picked up extra shifts. And now his shift supervisor doesn't even blink at him calling in indefinitely; his sergeant calls and sends his best and on the second night, a flower arrangement from his precinct shows up amongst the many being sent TK's way. So he goes home once, at six in the morning after the first night passes without any stirring from TK, showering as quickly as possible and packing a bag and picking up coffee that didn't taste perpetually burnt for himself and Owen. 

And everyday, it becomes a mantra: "If you can hear me, I want you to squeeze my hand, okay?" 

Owen's been handling things surprisingly well, only having one break-down long after the whole team had left. Carlos had curled an arm over the captain's shoulders, squeezing tight and hoping that it didn't feel like an intrusion. He didn't know where he stood with TK in terms of their relationship, let alone with the man's father, but the way Owen had hugged him back told him all he needed to know. And when Owen leaves for a lap around the small recreational centre outside, or to go grab coffee to clear his head, or to call and check in with the 126 and their temporary captain, Carlos takes the chance to talk to TK. 

He talks about everything and nothing at once, offering commentary on the weather or the bad daytime TV playing on a loop or the rotating group of nurses tending to TK and their constant chatter about how lucky TK was to have a boyfriend like Carlos as they change his IV or check his monitors. 

"What d'you think about that, Ty?" Carlos whispers, squeezing TK's hand as he leans back in his chair. "What do you think about being boyfriends?" 

It's been hanging on his mind since the accident; it's made him check himself because time just slips away so quickly, sometimes. He knows they both have dangerous jobs and he knows that's something they each have to deal with, but seeing how quickly he could lose TK makes him not want to waste a moment more. If that's what TK wants. He'll sit with him until Owen comes back and a comfortable silence will fall over them both, the two of them equally as eager to have TK wake up. It's late one night, when Owen looks over at him. Michelle had just left, and Carlos feels drained on every possible level, and he's almost surprised when Owen starts telling him about TK. 

About TK as a little boy, and his phase of wearing his plastic firefighter helmet around the house until the paint nearly chipped off. About TK as a pre-teen, and TK as a teenager, up to just a few months ago. 

"I lost my son for a while," Owen says, absently squeezing TK's hand in his own as he talks. Carlos keeps his eyes trained on the captain. "I've been getting him back, since we moved down here. It's a beautiful thing to see, Reyes."

There's a beat of silence. 

"Carlos," Owen says, and it surprises him a little, both the use of his first name and the tone of Owen's voice. "I want to thank you. For being there, for my kid. TK doesn't tell me much but I know that you're a good support system for him. And I don't want to pry but—but you seem good, for him. And I hope it works out." 

"Thank you, sir," Carlos says, because he doesn't have any other words for the man, except for: "I hope it works out, too."

Owen smiles at him, and calls him _son_ from then on, and Carlos can't help but to feel warm at the gesture. 

* * *

On the third day, Carlos is abruptly woken up by a familiar voice he's longed to hear over the past seventy-two hours. 

"Is the kid okay?" 

It's not what he's expecting. Carlos blinks sleep from his eyes and takes in TK, hair disheveled and breathing tube still in place, though his eyes are open and wide and focused on Carlos' face so intently that it's hard to believe that he's been unconscious for the past three days. 

TK repeats himself, because Carlos is kind of in a state of shock, his own words caught in his throat. "Carlos, is the kid okay? He looked fucking terrified." 

"He's fine," Carlos manages, struck dumb because somehow this is what TK is focused on. He'd checked up on things after most of the chaos had died down; the kid's grandfather suffered a mild heart attack and was out of the hospital the following day, and the boy was shaken up but unharmed. "Ty, do you know what happened?" 

TK makes a face as he looks down at himself, just as Owen makes a noise from the corner and stumbles out of the cot that the nurses had brought in that first night. TK's face brightens at seeing his father, and when Owen cups his son's cheek it's only a moment before they're both clutching at each other desperately. Carlos wants to leave, to give them space, but he feels TK's hand in his own, and the other man only tightens his grip. 

"I'm going to get your doctor, okay?" Owen says, once he's pulled away from his son. TK nods at him, eyes still shiny, and as Owen leaves the room his gaze falls to Carlos. He watches as TK takes in his sleep-rumpled clothes and the bags under his eyes, and the way their hands are still linked together. Carlos hesitates before saying anything — he doesn't know how TK's going to react to everything, let alone this very obvious declaration that they're more than friends. More than casual. More than whatever they've been dancing around for the past four months. 

"—I can almost hear your thoughts," TK says quietly, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. It's a brief flash of the TK he's used to: generally happy and teasing. His jaw clenches at the sudden reminder of pain, judging by the shakiness of his exhale. Carlos lets TK squeeze his hand as hard as he needs to, knowing that the acetaminophen isn't offering as much relief as something like morphine would. But he's sticking through, and meets Carlos' gaze again. "How long have you been here?" 

Carlos shifts in his seat, and when TK notices he pulls at his arm to come closer. He can't really do that without getting up on the bed, but he thinks, _fuck it,_ and joins him, careful not to disrupt any of the various wires popping out of his body. "Since they knew you were stable, that night it happened. Your dad got the others to leave and try and get some rest when we knew you'd be okay." 

"Not you, though?" TK asks, though he knows the answer. 

Carlos shakes his head. "Not me." 

"I—," TK winces a little as he tries to turn to face Carlos more, and immediately Carlos rests a gentle hand on his chest, trying to keep him from moving too much. "Carlos, I don't know what to say." 

"You don't have to say anything, Ty," Carlos whispers, bringing TK's hand up to his mouth to briefly touch his knuckles to his lips. TK watches the entire movement, and chews at his bottom lip. 

Quietly, as if he doesn't want this moment to be for anyone but them, he says: "I really like you."

He lets the implications of that hang in the air. It's the most he's ever seen TK spill out his feelings, at least insofar as they are in regards to their relationship. Carlos waits, and surely enough, TK keeps going. 

"I just, fuck," TK stares down at the bed, working out the words in his head. "Before it happened, my dad told me that there's no guarantees, for anybody. And this whole time we've been here I've been trying to run from my past and I know that you aren't like _him._ I know that, and I think I knew that when we first met. But I was so fucking scared about what letting another person in would do to me, you know? And I've gotten to know you and I _really_ like you _,_ Carlos." 

He stops, and meets Carlos' eyes. He brings a hand up to rest against TK's jaw, thumb moving over his cheekbone gently, and TK leans into the touch. 

"I really like you, too, Ty," Carlos says, watching the small movements of TK's face when he says it; the crinkle of the corners of his eyes, the slight upturn of his mouth. "I thought I lost you, and I was so fucking terrified. The thought of losing you so quickly, I—I guess your dad was right. No guarantees." 

"I don't want to waste another day running from this," TK admits, the words tumbling out of his mouth quickly, as if he didn't want to stop himself from saying them. Carlos lights up, and TK ducks his chin enough to be able to kiss at the jut of Carlos' thumb. "Shit, my therapist is barely going to recognize me when I tell her about this." 

He says it with the slightest huff of a laugh, and Carlos grins and knocks his forehead against TK's. He doesn't have the words for how proud of him he is, or the way his heart's been practically trying to break out from behind his ribcage for the last few minutes. He just feels his nose press against TK's, and then there's a brief moment where they're just sharing air until TK surges forward and presses a gentle, barely-there kiss to his lips. It might be their sweetest kiss, one without the hunger or desperation they're used to in their fervent, short-lived hook-ups. Once he pulls away, Carlos keeps a hand at the back of TK's head, just keeping his eyes on TK's. 

There will be a long few weeks of recovery; of resisting the urge to ask for stronger meds, of going through physical therapy, of not being able to work until his full strength is back. But Carlos is ready to stick it through with TK, and so is the team, judging by the looks on their faces when they pile into the room, still in their slacks and AFD collared shirts. Owen walks in with a fond smile pulling at his lips, watching as TK accepts hugs and stuffed teddy-bears from the team. All of them latch onto TK when he tears up at the sight of Marjan's phone, displaying a photo of a giant dog (who, Carlos later learns, is named Buttercup, which seems fitting) curled up on TK's bed at the station. 

Carlos turns his head, and takes in TK again, and again, _and again_. And he finally feels himself settle, and breathe deeply, and let the moment wash over him. He pulls TK closer to him, still careful with the bandages and the stitches holding him together just underneath, and when TK takes his hand between both of his own and holds it close to his chest, he knows he doesn't ever plan on letting go. 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading, comments/kudos make my day!!!


End file.
